


mirror, mirror (there’s your crooked nose)

by phcbosz



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, just bad bad awful fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25257799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phcbosz/pseuds/phcbosz
Summary: Martín follows the heist glued to the screen. Of course he does.orthe first heist, through martín's eyes.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	mirror, mirror (there’s your crooked nose)

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings in tags god i hope i didnt miss anything take care of urselves babes

Martín follows the heist glued to the screen. Of course he does. Every time something big happens, he is thinking I could be there, I could be in there with him—

Some nights, it’s hard to sleep, and he thinks about Andrés, he is always thinking about Andrés, and god, it’s like the man is plastered behind his eyelids, every time he blinks, he sees Andrés, Andrés smiling, Andrés laughing, Andrés drinking wine, Andrés when he thinks of a great idea, Andrés dancing, Andrés smiling at him, Andrés turning around, Andrés leaving—

It’s the greatest heist in the history of the world, people say. Martín wants to scoff, he wants to scream, he wants to punch his walls until his hands breaks.

What’s printing money next to melting gold together? They could be the greatest heist together, they could be art, but Andrés left, Andrés left, and now he is printing money at the Royal Mint, doing his brother’s plan instead of Martín’s, because Andrés left, because Sergio wanted Andrés to leave.

Martín wants to kill Sergio, sometimes. He wants to kill Andrés. He wants to kill himself—

He just wants to disappear. He just wants to see Andrés again.

*

Some nights, he dreams.

Andrés comes back to him. Tells him to run away with him, tell him of course I came back, I told you, we are soulmates, Andrés says, we are soulmates, Andrés says, we are soulmates—

Martín wakes up crying and he tries to swallow his sobs but it’s no use, it’s no use, he just misses Andrés so much—

*

When they leak to the media about Andrés being a rapist, a pimp, a monster who rapes little girls, Martín wants to storm into that tent, guns blazing and scream.

“How dare you?” He wants to scream.

“I knew that man,” he wants to scream.

“I love that man,” he wants to scream.

“How dare you?” He wants to scream.

He wants to scream, he wants to scream, he wants to scream—

He screams into his pillow until his voice is hoarse.

*

When he sees Andrés on TV, he feels breathless again, like someone reached into his chest and ripped out his lungs, like someone reached into his chest and ripped out his heart, and Andrés did that, Andrés ripped out his heart, and Andrés keeps doing it—

Andrés is a good actor. Martín smiles watching him.

Andrés is such a good actor that before he left, Martín thought that maybe he could change the man’s mind, maybe he could make the man stay, but Andrés knew he would leave before he even walked into the room, but Andrés is such a good actor that Martín had hope for a few minutes.

He doesn’t know why Andrés did it that way. He doesn’t understand why Andrés had to give him everything he ever wanted, love, a kiss, hope, the dream of a future together, only to rip it away, so cruel, so cruel, Andrés has always been cruel but never with Martín—

He just doesn’t understand. He wishes he could go into the Mint, crack Andrés, Berlin’s head open, and see inside his brain, so he can finally understand, why, why would Andrés do what he did?

Does he hate Martín that much? Did he want to break Martín before leaving?

Did he want Martín to be ruined for anyone else?

Martín wants to go into the Mint, look Andrés in the eyes and say you did it asshole. Congratulations. You did it.

*

That night, he goes out to a random club, fucks a random guy, leaves without even tying his shoes, like he is running away from something, and maybe he is.

Maybe he is.

Because in the morning, he brushes his teeth, and he is avoiding his eyes in the mirror, he can’t bear to look at himself anymore.

*

He opens the door. “Martín,” Andrés says, breathless, and Martín feels out of breath himself, and his head is spinning.

“Andrés,” he replies, and steps forward, forward, until their bodies meet, and Andrés disappears, and Martín wakes up, but at this point, he is too tired to cry, he just gets up, pour himself a drink, and tries to convince himself to finally do it, but he can never pull the trigger, he is weak because he wants to pull the trigger, he is weak because he can’t do it, it’s a cycle, it’s a circle, and Martín is trapped in it, forever spinning—

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes tight enough, he can hear Andrés. He can hear Andrés. The man is singing.

*

He thinks maybe if someone had told him years ago, he would find out that Andrés is dead through a TV screen, he would laugh in their face.

He thinks if someone asked him how he would reach to Andrés’ death, he would imagine himself screaming, crying, angry, anything else but this—

But this: Martín closes the TV numbly, gets up and pours himself a drink. He’s been doing that a lot nowadays, drinking.

He doesn’t know when he starts laughing. He just starts laughing all of a sudden, and he can’t stop, he can’t stop, his chest hurts, everything hurts, and Martín is drowning in his own sobs, he wishes he could just die right then and there—

It’s so stupid. He is so stupid. He actually brushed his teeth this morning. Put on clothes other than his dirty pajamas. He thought—

He thought that maybe, maybe Andrés would come back to him, after all. He thought the door would ring and he would open it, and there Andrés would be, with that smug smile on his lips.

“Martín,” Andrés would say, “do you want to run away with me, mi amor?”

He is so stupid.

Now, Andrés is dead, and there is nothing left. Nothing is possible now. Andrés died, and he took a piece of Martín with him.

*

He thinks the next time he sees Sergio; he will beat the shit out of him. Scream in his face. Tell him that it’s his fault Andrés is dead. If he didn’t separate Andrés and Martín –Martín and Andrés, their names always went together, god damn it—if he didn’t separate them, if they went into the Bank of Spain or the Royal Mint together, Andrés wouldn’t be dead, Martín would have saved him, Martín would have died a thousand times himself but he would have saved him.

It just doesn’t quite happen like that because nothing ever does.

*

“Martín,” Sergio says, and Martín can only blink. “They faked it. His execution. We believe he is being tortured, and I have a plan to save him. It’s your plan, actually. And I won’t do it without you.”

“Martín,” Andrés says. “I came back for you, mi amor.”

*

Martín always wakes up crying. Sometimes he thinks maybe Andrés meant in a place too far away when he said time would bring them back together again, sometimes he picks up his gun and feels the weight in his hands, turns it around, examines it, tries to pull the trigger, tries to pull the trigger—

He can never do it.

He has never been brave, except for when he was with Andrés, and Andrés is gone now, gone forever, and there is nothing left.

*

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> if u recognize this its bc its a repost b<3


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